


Her Words

by supergirrl



Series: Words [1]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5049298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supergirrl/pseuds/supergirrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strange things walk the Wasteland at night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Words

Hello everyone, this is my first Fury Road fic! This was inspired by stories from ancient Rome, where generals would see gods the night before a battle, and sometimes, have their victory/defeat predicted.  If you like listening to music while you read, I've attached the song that inspired the fic. Enjoy!

This fic has been edited in January 2018 to fit better into the larger canon of Words. I hope you enjoy the changes, and thank you for reading!

 

* * *

 

Frigid desert air lay over the sleeping War Party, silent except for the muttered conversations of sentries. No one was happy that they were lingering at the canyon. They were all waiting for something-for the wayward War Rig to return, for their god’s decision to risk reentering the swamp, or to admit defeat and fall back to his stronghold.   The pressure of all those eyes watching Joe, eagerly anticipating the decision he would make, was suffocating, and he felt the urge to be alone in the open desert.

As Joe made his way from the cluster of vehicles, a nervous Imperator trailed him, saying, “There’s something strange out there tonight, best stay close or bring a guard.”

Joe shrugged him off wordlessly, walking until the camp was obscured from view behind a sand dune. Panting, his lungs burning from the exertion of walking, he stopped to catch his breath, yet was unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched.

Then, as clearly as if she were just behind him, he heard Miss Giddy’s final words, “There’s a new world coming! She’s already on her way.”

A chill ran down his spine, and he spun around, trying to find the source of the voice.

Miss Giddy stood before him, and instinctively Joe swung at her with a closed fist. But she caught his arm in a grip of iron, and with strength beyond her feeble body threw him back, shouting, “They are not your property!”

Her voice was throaty and low, not like Miss Giddy’s shrill cries. The hatred in her words frightened him, even though it shouldn’t have-she was dead, he had killed her-

Joe squeezed his eyes shut tightly, hoping she would be gone when he opened them.

Miss Giddy had vanished, but a far stranger sight stood in her place. Angharad was gazing down at him contemptuously, not broken and bloody as he had left her in the sand, but strong and whole, radiating disdain. Her belly was flat, her face free of scars, and her eyes burned with rage as she took a step towards him.

He whipped the gun from its holster at his hip, but before it was level with Angharad’s ghost-the demon-whatever it was that stood before him, she flicked her wrist, sending the gun spinning harmlessly into the sand far beyond his reach. Joe tried to push himself up, and with another movement of her hand, a great invisible weight settled on his chest, pinning him to the sand.

She crouched beside him and watched him struggle, the enjoyment evident in her face, and scoffed, “Don’t bother. You aren’t going anywhere until I’m finished with you.”

Trying to hide his fear, he attempted to bluster, “You’re dead, Splendid.”

Her eyes blazed, “Do _not_ call her that. Her name is Angharad, and she was never your splendid plaything. The marks of your violation are gone, because you could not touch her soul, which will live forever.”

This time he barely noticed the twitch of her hand before a great pain tore through his abdomen, as if he was being rent in two, and he tried to scream for help, but no sound came.

“Don’t like this much, do you? This is what Angharad felt when you cut her open while she still breathed. Yes, you’ll feel all of her pain, and every bit of pain you’ve ever caused my children, before your end.”

“What _are_ you?” He gasped, barely able to get out the words.

“I am the Lady of the Thousand Names, mother of the world, protector of the downtrodden, and the deathless savior. I am the one who caught the sun and your man-made metal cannot harm me.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” The pain had not faded and he was still in agony.

The shade gave a small smile, touching the side of her smooth cheek with a golden hand, and spoke as if she had not heard him. Or perhaps she didn’t care.

“My child Angharad inflicted those wounds upon herself to show that she did not belong to you, that you imprisoned her body but not her spirit. She is free now, sitting at my right hand in eternal glory, and she will be there when you die. You took her life but you could never touch her soul. Her example inspired my other children, those you could not own, and they are free of you now.”

Angharad’s form blurred, and then Cheedo stood before him, her smooth dark skin inked with thousands of tiny words.  His youngest wife, the one who had always cowered before him, stared at him without fear, only disgust. “My gentle Cheedo will teach my children to read and give them the gift of knowledge. She will write the history of the great civilization she and her sisters will build, and you will only be remembered as the tyrant they cast into the dust.”

 “My moon-child Dag will make the earth green again and feed my children. She will bear a healthy son in seven moons time, and he will never once call you father. He will have only mothers.” Cheedo vanished and Dag sneered at him, a silver-haired toddler perched on her hip, and hissed, “Schlanger!”    

Dag and the long-desired son morphed into Toast, whose lip curled in derision at the sight of him.  “My shining Toast will raise cities from the wasteland and rebuild the world; she will be loved by all. You hated her most of her sisters; you were terrified by her, because you could not touch her genius or steal it for yourself. Know that she never feared you. You will strike her once more, but she will spit on your corpse.”

Toast vanished, replaced by Capable, whose flaming red hair hung loose over her pregnant belly. “My daughter Capable will heal those you have harmed and bring compassion to the world. Her true husband, the one you called mediocre, will fill her life with joy and her bed with love, and give her many babies.” Capable wrapped her arms around the gentle swell of her belly, and smiled. Her soft voice said mockingly, “I think I’ll name this sprog Furiosa.”

Joe growled in frustration, because none of this could be true. His power would never be broken and he would not die, especially not at the hands of his former wives. He was a god and they could not touch him. They would pay for their disobedience with their lives.

Capable’s features melted away, Angharad was staring at him, apparently content with his discomfiture. “You truly believe that, don’t you? It almost makes me feel sorry for you. You are no god and you will never harm my Hands on earth again.”     

Her knowing smirk enraged him, and he shouted, “Why do you care what I do to them?”

“Because I am The One Who is All. In every child you starved, in every life you took, in every human body that you violated, I was _there_. I felt it all, for the sufferings of my children are my own as well. Well, no more, false god. It’s time for you to see what a true goddess can do.”

The pain dissipated and the weight lifted but he was still unable to move, pinned down by her stare.

“Joe Moore, your time is nearly over. My fury has descended upon you and your death is near. There will be no Valhalla for you, no hope of life after death.  Your corpse will rot, too foul for even the crows to touch, and no one will mourn you. You see me now because I want you to know that your fate is inevitable, that tomorrow you will _die_. I want you to feel the terror and pain you have inflicted on others before you meet your end. Say your prayers, rally your troops, but nothing can save you now.”

She turned her back on him and walked away, clearly finished with him.

He snarled, pure rage propelling him forward. He lunged for her boot-clad feet, but a cold metal hand caught him round the neck. She jerked him up into the air, and Furiosa’s hard eyes bored into him. “Remember me.”


End file.
